


A Little Rescue, A Little Revenge

by Kateera



Series: All In a Summer [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 07:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateera/pseuds/Kateera
Summary: Wanting a car for his senior year of high school, Jim takes a summer job and resigns himself to a summer of work and boredom. Enter Oswald Cobblepot, who may be the exact opposite of Jim, but is far from boring.





	A Little Rescue, A Little Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> WOOT! This is my first time writing for this ship and I'm hooked!  
> This is a series and will follow our boys through the summer that changes their lives. Jim is seventeen and Oswald is sixteen and this is the teenager AU you didn't know you needed.  
> Written for the #GobblepotSummer2017 challenge. I chose Summer Job to start!

Boredom. This is how he would die, bored out of his skull and smelling like soggy lettuce. 

 

“Jim! Help Ms. Levinson with her groceries!”

 

Jumping up from the produce aisle in relief, Jim ran to the front to see a small gray haired woman trying to push a cart overflowing with groceries and bags of cat litter.  While hauling plastic bags around wasn’t much better than stocking shelves, Jim could at least get outside for a few minutes and enjoy the sun. Taking a summer job to pay for his first car had sounded wonderful when his mom first brought it up, but Jim missed his lazy mornings and the grocery store was hard work. He needed the car for his last year in high school, even if it meant hauling barbeque beans and cat food to Ms. Levinson’s rusty cadillac.

 

“Thank you, young man,” Ms. Levinson said with a smile, her large owl-like eyes looking even larger behind her glasses. “I know you should get a tip but I’m on a very fixed income.” Digging in her purse, she pulled out a slightly melted piece of chocolate. “Here, have a sweetie.”

 

Jim accepted the candy with a faint smile. “Thank you ma’am.”

 

He watched her get into the driver’s seat and sent up a prayer for everyone driving in Gotham. He threw the sticky chocolate mess in the first garbage can he found and wiped his hand on his jeans. A noise around the side of the building caught his attention, the groan of someone in pain and the thump of flesh hitting flesh. Tearing off his apron, Jim ran into the alley beside the grocery store and found three of his classmates standing over someone, a small boy huddled in the fetal position while they kicked at him. 

 

“Hey, leave them alone!”

 

The largest boy turned and gave Jim a grin. “Jimmy, get over here! This little punk tried to steal Randy’s bike so we’re teaching him a lesson.”

 

Jim pulled them back and stood in front of the huddled boy, fists clenched and jaw set. “Get out of here. You’re done.”

 

“Oh, I think I could stand a little more, Jimmy,” Dan said with a sneer. “Going to protect that sad sack of shit from all of us?”

 

Jim didn’t blink and tension vibrated between them but he stood his ground over the groaning boy. 

 

“Come on Dan,” one of the other boys said at last, pulling on his sleeve. “It wasn’t much fun once he stopped fighting back.” 

 

Dan pushed him away and glared at Jim, flexing his hands before shrugging and flashing a grin. “Sure Jimmy, whatever you say.”

 

Jim stood over the beaten boy while the others grabbed their bikes and pedaled away. After he was sure they’d left, he turned around and knelt down next to the crying boy.

 

“Hey, they’re gone,” Jim said in a hushed voice, not wanting to startle him. 

 

The boy turned over and stared up at Jim with tears streaming down his cheeks and mixing with the blood from his nose, his mouth clenched in pain. Even injured and crying, he looked like some kind of fallen angel, dark hair plastered to his head and pale skin smattered with freckles. Bright pale eyes sized up Jim as if the boy was deciding whether or not his position had improved. He looked familiar and Jim was sure they went to school together, though he’d never had classes with him. 

 

_ How have I never noticed him before? _

 

“Hi,” Jim started, a soft smile spreading across his face. “You’re safe now.” 

 

“What was that for?” The boy’s voice quavered even as he glared.

 

Jim’s smile slipped. “What do you mean?”

 

“Why did you stop them? What do you want?” 

 

“Um, nothing?” 

 

“Everyone wants something,” the boy said before clutching his head and groaning.

 

“Well, that’s not true,” Jim said, ignoring the snarky answer and holding his hand out to help the boy up.

 

The boy didn’t move. “Beg to differ. Are you some kind of cop in training or something? Enough good deeds and you get a shiny badge?”

 

Jim glared and drew his hand back. “You’re welcome you know? I’ll just go back to work and you can sit here and bleed and hope Dan doesn’t come back.”

 

The boy blanched and scrambled to his feet, slipping a little as he hurried to stand. “I mean, thank you! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

“Uh huh.” Jim shook his head at the change in demeanor but didn’t leave. 

 

“Do you really think he’ll come back?”

 

“I don’t know. He’s an ass though, so, maybe.”

 

“Oh.” Blood dripped down his face as the boy held his hand out to Jim. “I’m Oswald. Thanks for the help.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Jim said, shaking Oswald’s hand. “I’m Jim.”

 

Oswald glanced down at his dirt covered clothes and tried to brush himself off, only succeeding in smearing a good portion of blood down his long-sleeve shirt. He must have realized that cleaning up was futile because he proceeded to fold his sleeve over his bleeding nose to try and staunch the flow. 

 

Shaking his head, Jim grabbed his sleeve and ignored the sharp cry.. “You can come use the shop restroom to clean up okay?” 

 

Oswald gave him a sceptical look but nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be quick.” 

 

His shirtsleeve muffled his words but Jim understood enough to lead the way back into the shop. 

 

“Hey! Where have you been? What the hell happened to him?” Jim’s boss, a stout lady with kind eyes and quick temper, came around the counter to turn Oswald’s head in her hands as if inspecting a head of lettuce. Oswald winced at the treatment but kept his mouth shut.

 

“Sorry Mrs. Foster,” Jim apologized. “He got knocked around a bit so I thought I’d let him use our bathroom to clean up. If that’s alright?”

 

Mrs. Foster pursed her lips at Jim but pushed them towards the back. “Just hurry. I’ve got shelves that need stocking.”

 

Jim rushed Oswald to the back before she changed her mind. He left Oswald in the single stall bathroom to clean up and scrounged in the lost and found box for anything that might fit. Pulling out a small black t-shirt with the words “Start The Party” emblazoned on the front, Jim grinned and brought it to the bathroom door.

 

“Hey, I found a shirt you can wear,” he said with a knock. 

 

“I didn’t lock it.”

 

Jim pulled the door open to reveal Oswald sitting on the floor with his shirt in the sink.

 

“Here.” He shoved the shirt at Oswald and stuck his hands behind his back, his eyes searching for anything to look at other than pale skin covered in bruises.  He wanted to go find Dan and kick the snot of out him, show him what pain felt like when he wasn’t trussed up in football pads.

 

Oswald pulled the shirt on, giving the collar a little sniff and wrinkling his nose. “Thanks, I think.”

 

“Your other shirt is covered in blood. Unless you want people to think you murdered someone, it’s better than nothing.”

 

Oswald laughed and Jim’s breath caught at the light, pure sound. He looked down at his shoes to his the blush spreading across his face.

 

“So, I gotta get back to work,” Jim said, clearing his throat. “You gonna be okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Oswald answered, his eyes still shining. “Those brutes might like to kick but they aren’t smart enough to kick anywhere important.”

 

“Good, good,” Jim said and backed out of the bathroom. “See you around.”

 

“See you around Jim.”

 

He almost made it out the door before he realized that Oswald would have to walk home by himself and Dan might be waiting. The thought of seeing more bruises on that pale skin made his skin crawl.

 

He turned back around. “Hey, I’m off in a couple of hours if you wanna hang here. I can walk you home.”

 

Oswald frowned. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

 

“No, I don’t mean, not like that.” Jim stumbled for the right words. “I just think, I mean, you wouldn’t have to worry about Dan and his cronies.”

 

“I’m not worried about them,” Oswald said with a smirk. “So long as you let me search the lost and found box for a knife.”

 

It was Jim’s turn to frown. “What are you going to do with a knife?”

 

“Be left alone, hopefully.”

 

“How about I just walk you home instead?”

 

Oswald’s eyes pinned him with a searching stare but Jim kept still and finally he sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Fine. It’ll give me time to plan out how to retaliate.”

 

Jim sighed with relief until Oswald’s last words registered. “Wait, you actually want to try and take them down? Dan is like, four times bigger than you.”

 

“Gee, thanks.” Oswald mimed opening a switchblade. “What do you think the knife is for?”

 

Jim crossed his arms and shook his head. “Now I’m seriously walking you home. You can’t just stab people!”

 

“Why not? People can obviously just knock me to the ground and kick me.”

 

Reminded of what Dan said about why they’d started kicking Oswald in the first place, Jim squinted in suspicion. “Did you really try to steal Randy’s bike?”

 

A small nervous smile flashed on Oswald’s face. “Um, no?”

 

“I can’t believe this,” Jim said, his hands grabbing at his hair. “I rescued a thief.”

 

Oswald shrugged. “He’s got five of them and it’s not like I tried for his most expensive one. I could have sold it before he even knew it was gone.”

 

Jim groaned and rubbed at his face. “Whatever. Trying to stab them is still not a good idea.”

 

“Well what do you suggest?” Oswald asked, cocking an eyebrow and leaning back against the wall. “As you’ve so kindly pointed out, they’re much larger than I am.”

 

Jim looked around the bathroom and his eyes fell to the trash can. Giving Oswald a grin, Jim held out his hand.

 

“I have an idea.”

 

***

 

Three boys rode down the street, hopping over speed bumps and scaring pedestrians as they careened around corners. Taking the next corner as fast as they could, the first one to make the curve was met with a face full of rotten lettuce. Soon a barrage of produce came flying over a nearby fence, all rotten and mushy,  and straight for the three riders. They fell down in a pile of slimy food and twisted up bikes. One of the boys cried out as a tomato caught him in the face and a strange giggle erupted from behind the fence. 

 

“Oswald, let’s go! Quick!” 

 

“Take that, assholes!”

 

The sound of laughter and feet running faded away while the three boys slipped and struggled to stand. One almost made it upright before his foot found a piece of cucumber and he fell back down. People passed by, pointing and laughing but no one stopped to help.

  
  
  



End file.
